A Remade Soul
by madwriter223
Summary: One day, a hunter and a demon made a deal. Because of that, something happened that they did not expect. MPreg, Bobby/Crowley.
1. A Visit From Old Friends

A/N: Written for a prompt on Bobby/Crowley 100 Watchers Meme: _Hunters find out about the relationship between Hunter and Demon and what occurs. _

Me thinks this may be a start of a new 'Verse for me. ^_^

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**A Visit From Old Friends**

Bobby fired the shot, then quickly loaded another round. He immediately lifted the gun, and aimed, however his quarry had already managed to hide from him, jumping behind one of the old wrecks that littered his yard.

No matter. He'd get them when they peeked out, be it head or hand.

"Bobby, what the fuck?" was yelled from behind an old Ford, and the aged hunter swung his rifle to face that way. "Stop shooting!"

"You try to come into my home armed to the goddamn teeth, and you expected some other greeting?" Bobby yelled back, snarling when he spotted movement, and fired another round.

"Fuck! You almost shot me!"

"That's the idea!"

A head peeked out from behind a wheel-less Camaro, then ducked when Bobby fired at it. "We're here to help you, you dumbass!"

"I don't remember asking any of you idjits to save me!"

"A demon is controlling you, and you expected us not to come help you?"

"Do I look like I'm possessed?" Bobby fired three consecutive rounds, then reloaded again.

"You're acting kinda crazy, if you ask me!"

"I ain't asking you, you dumb little shit!"

"We're your friends, Bobby!" The man behind the old Volkswagen called. The same man was stupid enough to put his leg in the line of fire, thus nearly getting his foot full of lead. "FUCK!"

"The next bullet is going through your kneecap!" Bobby snarled loudly. "Now get off my property!"

"Bobby, listen to us! You're being mind-whammied by a _demon_! We're trying to _help_ you!"

"How? By barging onto my property and shooting the first thing that moves?"

There was an awkward pause. "I'm sorry about your dog. I kinda panicked. He gonna be okay?"

"You missed, you dick. Besides, you should worry about yourself!" Using the lull in conversation, Bobby quickly turned around to face the wall. He cut his hand, and finished up the warding symbols, activating them.

Unfortunately, the other hunters were watching his movements very closely, and sprinted out from their covers and towards the house, guns at the ready as soon as his back was turned.

They were about five feet from the porch when they slammed into an invisible wall. Said wall immediately morphed around them, wrapping around them, and tossing them backwards a good few yards.

Bobby stared at them, then calmly reloaded his rifle, going down the few steps. "This place is warded so tight God Himself will have trouble getting in here. What makes you think either of you can manage, huh?" He lifted the rifle, aiming at the closest hunter. "Now listen to me, you dumb sacks of shit. I am not being controlled, and I have not been brainwashed. The demon is _mine_, and you can be fucking sure I am gonna put a bullet between each and every one of your eyes if you come here again to shoot him. Got it?"

"Jesus Bobby. What the fuck did it do to you?"

"Pot roast."

A slow blink. "Huh?"

"He made pot roast, and because of you it's probably already cold."

The hunters looked around each other, confusion obvious on their faces. "He cooks?"

"Yup." Bobby cocked the rifle at them. "Get out of here. I'm still gonna help you lot with research when you'll need it, but I don't want to see either one of you again, is that clear?"

"You know we can't do that." One of the hunters stood up, his gun hanging loosely from his hand. "We can't just allow it to destroy you."

"Yeah, figured you'd say that." Bobby whistled sharply, and an **ominous** growling started up in front of the hunters. "Did I mention that my demon breeds HellHounds?"

"Jesus fuck. How many?"

"I'm not stupid enough to tell you. Now fuck off before I give them the command to rip limbs off."

Not having any other choice, the hunters turned and fled, yelling that they'll be back.

"We'll be waiting for you." Bobby muttered, his rifle remaining in the air till the last one of them got into his car and drove off.

The aged hunter sighed heavily, and sat down on the steps, laying his gun across his lap. He knew that this would happen eventually. A year of peace was apparently all that he would be allowed. Now he'd have to upgrade the wards, probably use those that prohibited anything with malicious intent from getting within two miles of the place.

Say what you want, but the amount of things Crowley knew about wards and the supernatural was coming in handy. And speaking of Crowley.

Bobby got back to his feet, and made him way inside, not bothering to deactivate the wards. They'd easily hold till next week, then they'll need a new coat of blood. Good thing the spell didn't specify whose blood could be used, so the 'Hounds could hunt some wild animal for that later on.

Crowley was waiting for him inside. He was seated on the bottom of the stairs, staring at Bobby with a solemn gaze. The dog was pressed against the demon's shins, his head laying on his knees, sighing softly when Crowley scratched him behind one floppy ear.

"And?"

"What do you think? They're gone, but they'll be back soon enough. We'll need to strengthen the wards some more soon." Bobby set his rifle by the door. "But for now we're fine.

"My hero." Crowley smirked at him, standing up and shooing the dog away. "The roast is still warm, if you're hungry."

"Maybe later." The whole fucking ordeal made Bobby lose his appetite. He glanced up, and frowned when he noticed Crowley was staring at him with an odd expression. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just wondering if you would still be such a knight in loaded armor of I wasn't with your spawn."

Bobby scowled, reaching out to pet the demon's rounded belly. "Don't call him that."

Crowley smirked at him, laying his hand over Bobby's. "For me to call him something else, we should decide on a name."

Bobby growled. He was not arguing baby names again. Once a day is fucking enough. "Go eat something." he said instead, moving upstairs to finish up the crib.

"Yes, dear." Crowley murmured, watching as the human climbed the stairs. Then he shook his head, and went to the kitchen. He might as well try some of that pot roast. No need for it all to go to waste.


	2. Remade Soul

AN: This part is basically an explanation on how exactly Crowley ended up pregnant. Tell me what you think.

**Remade Soul**

"So, what'll it be? A bone barbecue or my soul?" Bobby asked, doing his best to push down his smug expression. It was rather hard, especially when Crowley's glare intensified. Any more, and there'll be flames bursting out of his eyes.

Wait... _now_ they'd be bursting out of his eyes. And smoke from his ears as well.

But in the end, Crowley slumped in defeat, muttering a pissed off "Bullocks.", and Bobby knew he won.

How little did he know.

"I can't." Crowley muttered, running a weary hand through his hair.

Bobby's expression hardened. "Then prepare to be toast. Dean?"

"I can't give it back because it _won't let go_."

That definitely made the hunter pause. "What the Hell does that mean?"

"It's a rather long story." Crowley threw a look at the hunter.

Bobby scowled. "Phone stays on, if it's the bill you're on about." He set the phone on a nearby table pointedly. "Now talk."

Crowley sighed heavily. "Can I at least get a chair?"

"No."

"Fair enough." Crowley glanced to the side as he gathered his thoughts. "I'll start from the beginning then. Demons don't take souls."

The human scoffed. "What kind of idjit do you think I am?"

"We take _a piece_ of the soul. A long unused piece, like the childish innocence or a conscience, depends on the person. Otherwise, the client wouldn't be able to function normally during their ten years."

Bobby grudgingly admitted it made sense. "Then why not just mark the soul or something?"

"Insurance. If the client dies prematurely, his soul will go to that piece. If he lasts till his time is up, HellHounds use that piece to sniff out its owner wherever they may be hiding."

That... also made an annoying amount of sense. "Alright, fine. But what the Hell does that have to do with my soul?"

Crowley ignored him. "The soul-pieces are kept in a specially designated area. Think of it as a gigantic archive with a boat-load of cabinets."

"Yeah?"

"When we made our deal, I couldn't exactly put the piece of your soul _there_ due to obvious reasons. So I wove it into my meatsuit."

"You _wove_ it?" Bobby growled, hand itching towards his gun.

"So it wouldn't get left behind if I had to quickly vacate some premises."

"Couldn't you just hide it somewhere?"

"Creating a container for a soul, and maintaining it would generate too much energy. Traceable energy, and in case you've forgotten, I was _in_ _hiding_. Laying low is rather a requirement." Crowley hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Alright, fine! Can't you just un_wove_ it?"

"First of all, I rather doubt that's even a word."

"Like I care."

"Second of all, I already told you it won't let go."

"And you failed to explain what the Hell that means!"

"It means that the little fucker apparently took a liking to me, and refuses to separate itself from me!"

"You expect me to believe a piece of my soul _likes_ _**you**_?"

"Oh, if only it was that simple, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place."

"Will you start making sense already?"

"It remade itself!" Crowley exploded, eyes blazing furiously. "It took what was left of my humanity and remade itself around it! I can't give it back, because it's basically a new soul now, and the bloody thing won't let go! Am I making sense to you _now_?"

Bobby didn't answer. He stood and he stared, his thoughts swirling. He couldn't quite get what the demon had meant, the dots were kinda refusing to connect.

Thankfully, someone connected them for him.

"So... you're pregnant with Bobby's soul baby?" asked the forgotten phone in Dean's voice.

Crowley glared at the device, then huffed, crossing his arms. "Essentially, yes."

"Should we torch him then?"

"Dude, we are _not_ torching Bobby's baby."

"But it's in a demon. Bobby'll probably be grateful."

"...there is something seriously wrong with you, and we're _not torching_ Bobby's _baby_!"

"Fine, have it your way."

"We'll drop by when we get back, Bobby. See yah."

There was a click, and the hunter and demon stood alone in silence, staring at each other.


End file.
